"The Security"

My neighborhood, Trastevere, is avillage of twisting, narrow, cobblestoned streets lined by old houses with heavy doors and tall shuttered windows. The walls of the houses looked rubbed with age and on their lower levels they are covered with a continuous scrawl if multicolored, multilingual graffitti. There's lots of litter and trash bags piled at vacant corners. The trash is supposed to be picked up outside of each house but the system doesn't always work, Annuska explains. Beatrice shrugs and whispers to leave it at the corner like everyone else

Both Annuska and Beatrice are very keen on "the security." The back of the house faces a courtyard and those windows along it have elaborate locks. We are solemnly charged to close all the shutters when we leave and to double lock the door at night and to make sure the door to the roof deck is barred and locked. Violent crime isn't a problem but robbery as a long time resident explains. "Italy is a nation of thieves," she says. "Watch out for pickpockets."

Instead of feeling paranoid I feel perfectly safe. There' something comforting about being ina place so old abd so beautiful. Living somewhere that has existed and survived for so long and where the garden across the street has orange and lemon trees full of fruit in early February.